


Your hope dangling by a string, I'll share in your suffering

by Miyukitty



Series: Xander Laslow Week 2016 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Separation Anxiety, War, Xanlow Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: This close, Laslow could see stress pulling tight at the corners of his eyes, the frown lines creasing his forehead, unshaven stubble rough on his chin. [...] Something cold and heavy settled in his gut.He hesitated, then let his hand stray to those golden curls, smoothing Xander's hair back from his dark eyes. Xander leaned slightly into his palm, eyes fluttering closed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Xanlow Week 2016 Day 3: fear
> 
> missing scene for chapter 6 just before the branch of fate, not That One Scene We Do Not Speak Of. featuring laslow's abandonment issues ~~and possible foreshadowing of That One Scene~~. for maximum feels, please consider this in the same continuity as [forget-me-not](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6606292). :,)

 

Laslow knelt to fasten the protective greaves over Xander's riding boots and riveted sabatons. His practiced fingers closed the clasps easily, and moved methodically upward to attach the poleyns to shield his knees. Piecing together the black lacquered armor was a comforting routine, until he chanced a glance upward.

 

Xander stood gazing at the wall with his back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, and feet planted firmly apart. That rigid posture was so deeply ingrained in his highborn upbringing that Laslow doubted the prince could slouch if he tried. His breath caught as he stared, fingers stalling.

 

The weighted silence hung in a heavy pall over them both. He wasn't quite sure how to say what he wanted to say.

 

 _I don't like this,_ he supposed was as good a start as any. He remained silent.

 

He stood shakily, and motioned for Xander to remove his undershirt. Their height difference was never more pronounced than when his duties called for him to dress his liege for battle. Why were Nohrians so ridiculously tall? Xander towered a full head and a half over him. It wasn't fair that he looked like a gawky teen in comparison, wobbling on his tiptoes as he struggled to reach around those broad shoulders and collect the garment.

 

Laslow was a grown man too, damn it. He didn't like feeling so small. Or so anxious.

 

The retainer fought to keep the humiliation from burning on his face as he dragged the stepping stool over. He thought he caught the ghost of a smile flicker across Xander's countenance, but it vanished back into measured blankness when he climbed up to eye level.

 

His pulse quickened. This close, Laslow could see stress pulling tight at the corners of his eyes, the frown lines creasing his forehead, unshaven stubble rough on his chin. Laslow moved slowly, helping Xander pull his arms and head through the clean tunic.

 

Laslow's roving eyes caught only a brief glimpse of the lattice of scars crossing Xander's back before it was concealed beneath fabric. Something cold and heavy settled in his gut.

 

He hesitated, then let his hand stray to those golden curls, smoothing Xander's hair back from his dark eyes. Xander leaned slightly into his palm, eyes fluttering closed.

 

"You'll succeed, milord," Laslow whispered, then ducked his head shyly. He busied his hands with the laces of the shirt, cinching and tying them off with a flourish. Underneath his fingertips, he felt Xander's chest rumble with a distracted hum.

 

The padded vest came next, the heavy fabric quilted and stuffed to cushion against the plate armor that would go on last. He raised his arms obligingly, but Xander's frown deepened. Laslow tugged the gambeson into place and smoothed the wrinkles out of the fabric, knowing from experience that it would be hot and uncomfortable enough without adding chafing to the experience. He wanted everything to be perfect. Xander would not fail on his account, or any other.

 

"Though you're quite certain you don't want me on the battlefield? I am more than just a pretty face, as you know. I could be of use to you," Laslow murmured. Muted traces of bergamot and rosewood tickled his nose, but the prince's scented oils were overpowered by the reek of metal. He attempted a halfhearted smile as he hoisted the next piece of armor onto the stool. The expression felt strained, unconvincing, but he stubbornly kept it up.

 

"I thought I made my orders clear. This is to be a swift strike against Hoshido: an overwhelming show of force to avoid unnecessary bloodshed later. My retainers are to remain at the capital and await my return," Xander responded sharply.

 

Xander grunted as the heavy chest plate settled into place over his sternum. Laslow checked the fastenings at his shoulders before carefully sliding the bevor around his throat. Everything had to be perfect.

 

"Ah, indeed you did," Laslow bantered, forcing the cheer into his voice. It still sounded needy to his ears, but now that he'd started he couldn't stop himself. "I just hoped perhaps you'd reconsider, given my sworn oath to protect you."

 

Xander arched an eyebrow in warning. "Laslow-"

 

"Rather difficult to do my duty if I'm not allowed to come with you."

 

" _Laslow_ ," Xander snapped. "You forget your place. Do you mean to disobey me? Or my father?"

 

"N-no, milord," Laslow gulped.

 

He hastily finished tying the cravat, avoiding eye contact, then backed off the stool to give Xander space. He fumbled as he gathered the arm guards from the wall, and dropped the gauntlets. The metal clattered noisily to the floor.

 

Acrid panic rose like bile in the back of his throat, bitter on his tongue. His hands shook as he raised them to his face, and covered his eyes.

 

_I can't do this. I can't watch him leave. Don't leave me._

 

He flinched when Xander's hand settled on his shoulder.

 

"Laslow," the crown prince called, gentler this time.

 

Laslow buried his face deeper in his hands, saying nothing. His vision blurred as unshed tears stung his eyes.

 

Xander chose his words haltingly.

 

"I… I apologize for raising my voice. It was uncalled for. Truth be told, I am… troubled about escalating the war, and about Corrin's fate in the hands of the Hoshidans. It was never my intention to unleash my frustration upon you."

 

Laslow shuddered out a sigh and turned slowly. His head was bowed low, but one hand strayed to touch Xander's fingers, tentative, trembling.

 

"Just this once," Xander continued with a heavy sigh. "Allow me this selfish indulgence, just this once. I have already lost two retainers to Hoshido, and I may yet lose a sibling today. At least allow me the peace of mind that you still draw breath – that no matter what happens today, I will not lose you, too."

 

"I'm not very good at handling this sort of situation, I'm afraid," Laslow admitted with a sniffle. Xander gripped his shoulder in silent encouragement to continue.  

 

Laslow shook his head, lower lip quivering as he blinked too quickly. "If I may speak freely… It's my job to serve you faithfully, but I've seen it too many times, you know? Too much war… Too many loved ones gone off to fight without me. They don't always come back. It's… hard. To keep smiling."

 

"You are under no obligation to smile for me, Laslow. Especially if it is insincere," Xander chided.

 

"I beg to differ. It's always best to smile during times of hardship, even if you don't feel like it," Laslow replied softly.

 

Crying wouldn't change the reality of the situation, but maybe a smile would make it easier for all of them to bear. Laslow tugged Xander's hand free from his shoulder. He raised it to his lips to press an obeisant kiss to his signet ring. "If it will ease your mind and lighten your load, then I swear to you I'll be here waiting with freshly brewed tea and your favorite cakes, ready for you to regale me with the tale of your heroic victory."

 

"I am relieved to hear that. Thank you."

 

"-But just this once. I'm meant to be at your side, milord. If you order me to stay behind a second time, I make no such guarantees about my obedience. I don't doubt your strength for a moment, and you can punish me all you want for it later, but having my sword with you is for your own good," Laslow huffed. He held back a comment under his breath about being saddled with royalty that always insisted they do everything by themselves, choosing instead to nuzzle into Xander's palm.

 

Xander's calloused thumb hesitantly stroked his cheek as Laslow kissed the inside of his hand.

 

When he finally dared to look up through the veil of his wet eyelashes, he found Xander gazing down at him with a gentle smile. The unguarded fondness in his stare immediately brought color to Laslow's heated cheeks. It was rare to earn such an expression from the crown prince. He turned his face into Xander's palm with a small squeak, hiding his blush.

 

"Very well. I accept your terms," Xander murmured. He cradled Laslow's face as he leaned forward, and pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of Laslow's head. "I'll be back in time for tea. Have faith in me, and save your smiles for when I bring Corrin home."

 

"Yes, sir."

**Author's Note:**

> *✲ﾟ*｡✧ ~ defend hoshido? fight with nohr? refuse to choose a side? ~ *✲ﾟ*｡✧
> 
> :) feel free to yell at me on twitter @magepaw


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